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Monday, August 25, 2014

KAREN: Let's welcome Angela Quarles! She's here to tell us about her upcoming release, MUST LOVE BREECHES. Do yo love tantalizing romances with lots of humor? Well then you're in for a real treat.

The Allure and Challenge of Time Travel Romances

by Angela Quarles

As the success of Outlander shows, and the fact that it's now
enjoying a run on Starz (can I get a Yowza for Sam Heughan as Jamie anyone?),
people love time travel stories. Other classics of time travel romances include
Linda Howard's Son of the Morning and
Jude Devereaux's Knight in Shining Armor.

What makes them so appealing?

Personally, I love
them. I love reading them and I love writing them. There's something about
fish-out-of-water tales (and that's essentially what it is) that has always
appealed to me. Not sure why. Perhaps the vulnerability of the character in the
new situation? The potential for humor? The sense of wonder? The challenge? And
since I love history, time travel stories are a great fit. I also love
exploring all the what-ifs and the timey-wimey stuff that the genre entails.

The really good ones
allow a reader to see the past in a way that you might not necessarily
experience when reading a straight historical. After all, the time traveler is
coming from a modern, familiar perspective, and so it's a great way to contrast
differences through such a lens. A character in a regular historical is already
familiar with the setting and the mores, and so the prose cannot call attention
to these differences. A modern character going back? They're able to say, 'What
the hay? That's whacked!' And to me, that's fun. And I'm all about the fun.

The challenges in writing time travels

There are a lot of
challenges, and perhaps the part that makes them fun--modern lens on a
historical era--can also be what makes it challenging. It's hard to go there
without coming across silly or cheesy. It's a fine line. An additional
challenge is crafting it in a way that makes it believable for the reader.
Everyone's got their own ideas of how they'd react if it happened to them, and
I know with my current release I had some Beta readers tell me the heroine took
too long to figure it out, and I had others say she was too quick in figuring
it out. Le sigh. You can't please everyone, so I tried to settle for something
in the middle and that fit with her character and situation.

There's also all the
timeline aspects to wonder about and figure out, and it can make your mind spin
trying to pin some concepts down. Is it a closed loop? Do they affect the
timeline or not? Does it spawn an alternate timeline? These are all things to think
about and figure into your plot.

How about you? Do you love time travel romances? Why
are you drawn to them? What are your faves?

She's finally met the man of her dreams. There's only one problem:
he lives in a different century.

"A fresh, charming new voice" – New York Times
bestselling author Tessa Dare

HOW FAR WOULD YOU TRAVEL FOR LOVE?

A mysterious artifact zaps Isabelle Rochon to pre-Victorian
England, but before she understands the card case’s significance a thief steals
it. Now she must find the artifact, navigate the pitfalls of a stiffly polite
London, keep her time-traveling origins a secret, and resist her growing
attraction to Lord Montagu, the Vicious Viscount so hot, he curls her toes.

To Lord Montagu nothing makes more sense than keeping his distance
from the strange but lovely Colonial. However, when his scheme for revenge
reaches a stalemate, he convinces Isabelle to masquerade as his fiancée. What
he did not bargain on is being drawn to her intellectually as well as
physically.

Lord Montagu’s now constant presence overthrows her equilibrium
and her common sense. Isabelle thought all she wanted was to return home, but
as passion flares between them, she must decide when her true home—as
well as her heart—lies.

About the Author:

Angela is a geek girl romance writer. What makes her romances
geeky? Whether it's fan girling over Ada Lovelace by having her as a secondary
character in Must Love Breeches, or outright geek references with geek
types in her romantic comedy with paranormal elements, Beer and Groping in
Las Vegas, or going all Southern steampunk in Steam Me Up, Rawley,
she likes to have fun with her romances and hopes her readers do too.

Angela works at an independent bookstore and lives in an historic
house in the beautiful and quirky town of Mobile, AL. When she's not writing,
she enjoys the usual stuff like gardening, reading, hanging out, eating,
drinking, chasing squirrels out of the walls and creating the occasional
knitted scarf. She's had a varied career, including website programming and
directing a small local history museum, and has discovered that writing allows
her to explore all her interests.

She's an admitted geek and is proud to be among the few but mighty
Browncoats who watched Firefly the first night it aired. She was
introduced to the wonderful world of science fiction by her father, by way of
watching reruns of the original Star Trek in her tweens and later giving
her a copy of Walter M. Miller Jr's A Canticle for Leibowitz as a
teenager. She hasn't looked back since.

She has a B.A. in Anthropology and International Studies with a
minor in German from Emory University, and a Masters in Heritage Preservation
from Georgia State University. She was an exchange student to Finland in high
school and studied abroad in Vienna one summer in college.

Enjoy an EXCERPT:A reenactment ball was the perfect setting for romance. Or not.

Isabelle Rochon fidgeted in her oddly-shaped-but-oh-so-accurate
ball gown, surrounded by women who’d sacrificed historical authenticity for sex
appeal. Red carpet ball gowns in the nineteenth century, really? Once again she
was like the dorky kid participating in dress-up day at school when everyone
else had magically decided it was lame.

“Gah. I feel like a green robot with strange battle armor.”
Isabelle pointed to her dark green dress, the shoulders flaring out almost to a
point, exaggerating their width. “What were the fashionistas in 1834 thinking?”

“I have no bloody idea.” Jocelyn squeezed the poof of fabric at
her shoulder. “These huge-ass sleeves are ridiculous.”

“Ah, screw it, we’re having fun, right? I’m not going to
self-sabotage the ball. Not after all the time I spent obsessing over my
costume.”

“And obsessing over the etiquette rules.”

“That too.” Besides, how fun was it to learn Jocelyn shared her
obsession with guys in period clothes and bodice-ripper romances?

Isabelle eyed a guy strolling past in tight-fitting, buff-colored
pantaloons. She pitched her voice to be heard over the string quartet. “Hmm.
How about the clothes on that daring derriere?”

Jocelyn sucked on her olive and plopped the empty stir stick into
her martini. “Oh, yes. Definitely a breech-ripper.”

Isabelle choked on her Bellini, the champagne fizz tickling her
throat and nose. This was the first opportunity they’d had to socialize outside
work, so she treated this moment delicately, afraid to puncture the mood. No
need to point out he sported pantaloons, not breeches.

She should ease up on the drink, though. She didn’t want to get
plastered at the Thirty-fourth Annual Prancing Through History Reenactment
Ball. Especially since her new colleagues would be around. And her boss. She
needed to impress him.

She’d been cultivating a mild crush on Andrew since starting her
new job at the British Museum six months ago. The whole situation was perfect.
A guy in the same field would respect her interests, wouldn’t expect her to
give up her profession for a relationship. He was safe. If it worked out,
great, if not, no biggie. She was happy, finally, with how her life was working
out.

She’d pictured him in period clothing before, looking resplendent.

He did.

“Hi, Andrew.” Her voice came out a little too high. Jeez, could
she sound any more like a lovesick fool? She always did this around
gorgeous men—went ga-ga as if she couldn’t rub two brain cells together. She
gazed around the Duke of Chelmsford’s newly renovated ballroom and pretended as
if her breath hadn’t quickened and her body hadn’t heated at the sight of
Andrew.

“Hello, Isabelle. Jocelyn.” Andrew nodded. His smile felt like a
gift for her alone.

“Glad you came across the pond to work with us. That find should
put you in the running for the promotion.”

Good. The promotion would mean she could stay in London. Well, it
would make staying easier. No matter what, she was determined to remain.

“Of course, you’ll have to beat me out.”

Cold clarity hit her stomach like accidentally gulping a glass of
iced gin instead of iced water, jolting her from her usual foray into
Incoherent Land around attractive guys. “You’re applying too?” Of course he
was.

“Without a doubt. Career changer and all. I’m a shoo-in. Sure you
still want to apply?”

Could she scrub the smug look off his face? She settled for the
less satisfactory, but more controlled, “Yes.”

Now catching her boss’s attention was more important than ever.
Besides wanting to escape into another era, she’d also hoped her costume would
impress him. She glanced at the wet bar. Drat. Where had her boss gone?

Andrew slipped his hand around her elbow, pulling her closer. “How
about we ditch this party and grab a pint? You and me.” He ignored Jocelyn, who
stared back and forth between them.

It all made sense—his sudden interest after dismissing her for
months, the calculation she’d caught when he’d turned back—he thought he’d
intimidate and charm her into giving up the position.

She yanked her arm free, saying, “Fat chance, you smarmy horndog,”
which cut through the room because, of course, the music had just ended.

Jocelyn snorted her drink, eyes watering, and coughed, fighting to
catch her breath. For a moment, her coughing was the only sound punctuating the
silence.

The curious eyes of the onlookers made Isabelle feel as if a huge
moat had sprung up around her. The moat of Beware, All Ye Who Enter—Idiot in
the Center. If one of those eyes were her boss…

Andrew trotted out his grin, the one that used to make her insides
hum. “Thought we had a connection. No?” He backed away, hands up, eyes locked
with hers in a you’re-such-a-fool stare, his heels snapping on the marble floor
with each backward step. “Cheers, then, babe. May the best man win.” He nodded
and sauntered off.

Jocelyn, bless her, completely ignored the Moat of Embarrassment
and stepped to Isabelle’s side. “How had we never noticed what an ass he was?”

“Probably because we were too busy drooling?”

“There is that.”

“Seriously, I should just go pound my head against the nearest
vertical object and repeat one hundred times, ‘When will I learn?’”

“Just be careful not to poke out your eye with those lethal
shoulder sleeves.”

“Ha.” But Jocelyn’s dry humor softened Isabelle’s mood. “Can’t
believe he expects me to just roll over. I have to get the promotion, I need
the security. No way am I going to sacrifice my dream to be with a guy, I don’t
care how hot he is.”

Never again would she let a jerk encased in good-looking
skin influence her life. Been there. Done that. Have the gold-stitched Fool’s
cap.

I enjoyed reading today's blog. Karen, you always present an excellent posting. Angela, your novel sounds like a great read. I have to admit, I've never attempted a time travel novel although I do write historical as well as contemporary. I think time travel is more difficult, but very interesting. I also love Jamie and Claire. I read The Outlander series with rapt attention. Best wishes for your success.

Disclaimer: I do not read every book of the authors I spotlight. Readers, please use your own discretion before buying.

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